


Cranberry Red

by je_suis_le_petit_lapin



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Gore, M/M, Small amounts of gore, Zombies, the violence isn't really that graphic but better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11362272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_suis_le_petit_lapin/pseuds/je_suis_le_petit_lapin
Summary: It's hard to find food in the zombie apocalypse. Even harder when you've got a zombie to deal with and your I-don't-know-what-friend waiting for you back at the van.





	Cranberry Red

**Author's Note:**

> this started from an anon ask i got on tumblr (je-suis-le-petit-lapin if you wanna check me out) about sniper and spy being "gay af" in a zombie apocalypse. not quite as gay as you may expect, but i'm really happy with it.

The invisi-watch didn’t really help him at all. Something about the zombies, they could smell Spy, smell his blood; once he got a cut on his finger and had to run for his life from a horde who always seemed to know where he was. 

But they still needed food, Sniper’s van was secure enough but supplies were always running low with the two of them constantly in there and occasional transients they picked up out in the desert, staggering and lonely and sometimes half-dead. Sniper’d picked up enough Outback first aid to be good in a pinch, so he was staying back taking care of their latest charge while Spy had to go out and find some sort of food stores, preferably something sealed so it wouldn’t be contaminated with the virus.

(They still weren’t even sure if it was a virus, but it seemed as plausible as anything in this newly-minted hellscape.)

The gas station was easy enough to break into, and Spy pushed a broken-down refrigerator case in front of the hole he made in the glass door to keep it relatively secure. He started scanning the scant aisles, picking over protein bars and a few slightly dented cans and making sure that their packaging was still intact before throwing them in the shoulder bag he’d brought with him. 

Two cans of cranberry sauce.

A bag of dried black beans.

Eight or nine Bonks; whoever was inside this gas station last decided they didn’t need energy, Spy mused.

Cans of pre-made chili.

A dead body crumpled over in the corner. Spy froze.

Keeping his distance, Spy glanced over the body for any signs of movement. If the body started to move, he’d have a few minutes before it was coordinated enough to attack. Still, he retreated closer to the door, ready to shove the barricade over and make a break for it if need be.

Grabbing some bottles of water and stuffing them in his bag, Spy kept his eyes fixed on the corpse.

Then the foot twitched, and Spy noticed red streaks dripping down from the heel.

Spy swore and lunged for the refrigerator case, starting to push it out of the way of the hole and staring at the corpse, noticing the tremor move up from the leg to the thigh, then the corpse’s pelvis was starting to shake.

_Shit. Putain. Fuck._ Spy’s eyes widened. He’d never seen a corpse re-animate this fast, especially not one that was bitten so far away from the heart. With his own heart pounding, he steeled his hands on the side of the case and pushed.

The crash as it slammed into the ground drew the zombie’s attention, and with a few shambling movements the zombie was on its feet, lurching towards the source of the noise. Spy ducked down to crawl through the hole, and grit his teeth when he saw that the fridge was still covering half of it 

The zombie was halfway to him already. He hauled his bag off his shoulder and gripped the straps as tight as he could, both hands. When the zombie got to be a few feet from him, Spy’s arms were shaking.

One more limping step and Spy swung the bag as hard as he could, with a scream for good measure. The bag clipped the zombie’s face and Spy watched as its nose twisted, then snapped off and fell to the ground.

The momentum of the bag was strong enough that Spy had to swing it around over himself just to avoid slamming it into his own back, and on the second pass he connected with the head full force, separating half of it from the zombie’s neck and causing it to spray blood.

Spy instinctively released the bag, sending it flying towards the wall, and brought his elbows up to protect his face from the mess. The zombie sank to its knees, then dropped completely, crimson red pooling out from its neck onto Spy’s shoes.

Once he was certain that the onslaught was over, he tore his shirt off over his head, dropping it onto the twitching zombie and running over to his bag. Praying his hands to steady long enough for him to clean himself off, he reached in and grabbed a can of Bonk, popping the top and pouring it over his shoes until the runoff stopped turning violet and stayed its own sickly blue.

A quick spot check couldn’t find any more splatter on him, so Spy sank to his knees, taking two breaths to gather himself and feeling for the strap of his food bag. He hauled the bag up and felt the last threads holding the strap together give.

The bag was big and heavy with food, too unwieldy for him to carry in his arms. Spy swore for what felt like the hundredth time in minutes and grabbed the sides, dragging it over to the door and shoving it through the hole.

* * *

“What the hell took you so long?” Sniper didn’t even bother moving, and Spy could just barely see his face buried in his hands, elbows propped on the table, in the dim evening light trickling in through the windows.

Spy hauled the bag up inside the van, picking up one can from where it spilled out and placing it down on the table. “The zombies are getting worse.”

Sniper snapped his head up and looked Spy over. “Were you attacked?”

Biting his lip, Spy nodded. 

Up like a shot, Sniper reached for his makeshift medical tools, but Spy grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. “I didn’t get bitten. Took his head off with the bag.” He held up the broken strap as proof.

“Any blood on you?” 

“Rinsed it off.” 

Sniper yanked his wrist in and wrapped his arms around Spy the second the man hit his chest. Spy froze up, unused to much of any physical contact from the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, though; he’d been starved for touch for a while, spending his nights alternately on the tiny bed and the tinier couch in the van, wrapping his blanket and arms around himself and wishing it was someone else.

So he melted into the hug and let Sniper relax onto his shoulder for a few moments until he realized that Sniper was shaking. He pulled his hands out from the hug and lifted Sniper’s head, holding either side of his face. 

Sniper’s eyes were wet, so wet that Spy was surprised he hadn’t felt it on his shoulder, and his lips were quivering in time with his ragged breathing. Spy dropped his head and wrapped his arms back around Sniper twice as hard, using one hand to stroke down his back.

“I thought you… I thought…” Sniper mumbled, muffled by Spy’s neck.

Spy knew exactly what Sniper thought. He knew what visions must’ve been flying through his head before he heard the door open, images of Spy bleeding out on the road somewhere, of Spy being surrounded and taken down by a pack of zombies, possibly even of Spy’s corpse re-animating.

That last thought was the worst. Imagining your… your best friend dying had nothing on imagining him dying and then having to kill his corpse again. Spy was prepared to stand there and let Sniper hold onto him, let Sniper feel his warm, alive body for as long as he needed. 

He wasn’t prepared for Sniper to pull his head up and press his lips against Spy’s mouth, holding them there as his tears wet Spy’s cheeks. “I don’t think I could do this without you,” He murmured against Spy’s mouth.

Spy captured Sniper’s lips in his own, then pulled back and smiled. “You’ve been here without food all day.” Sniper’s stomach rumbled, as if to respond. 

“Do you got anything good in there?” Sniper tapped the bag with his foot.

Spy squat down to reach in, pulling out a can of Bonk.

“Mind tossin’ one of those over here?” Sniper’s patient called out from the van’s sofa, the first time Spy’d noticed he was there since he got back. Spy threw it to him and reached in for another can.

“We’re having cranberry sauce for dinner?” Sniper smiled.

“Or chili, it’s up to you.” 

“I dunno, I think we’re gonna be sharing the bed tonight.” Sniper turned to look at the boy on the couch. 

Spy stood up with the can of cranberry sauce.

**Author's Note:**

> yesssss fart joke at the end!!!!!! that's what's it all about!!!!!!!


End file.
